“I’m working out,” I say, turning back to the bag and letting another punch fly.
He pushes off the wall and walks closer, adjusting his bag. “It’s quite the workout.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
I huff out a breath and stop, palms flattening against the bag to hold it still. My chest heaves as I drag in air that smells like rubber mats, old sweat, and the faint citrus cleaner the staff uses right before the place opens.
“You’ve been off for weeks,” Wyatt says, not bothering to soften it. “And before you deny it, Blair noticed too. She asked me last night if you were okay.”
Blair notices everything. She is wired that way. She and Wyatt have this whole high-school-sweethearts-who-found-their-way-back love story. They now also have a baby girl, who arrived about six months ago and ruined their sleep schedule in the cutest way possible. Watching them together is like watching hope pull up a chair, pour a drink, and settle in.
“I’m fine,” I say again, because if I say it enough maybe it will be true. I peel off my gloves, fingers stiff and sweat-slick. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
Wyatt watches me for a beat. “It’s not Lauren, is it?”
I catch the concern in his face and shut that door fast. “No. Nothing like that.”
For a long time, every bad mood was linked to Lauren. She was a dark period in my life for sure. I fell hard and fast and I really believed I was doing the whole forever thing. Then her true colors started to show and the demands for introductions started. Or she would make passive-aggressive comments when I wouldn’t leverage a client to get her an audition. Then the stories about my clients that somehow made it to the tabloids with details only I was supposed to know about.
By the time I understood what she was doing with my life and my reputation, the marriage was already hollowed out from the inside. Getting out was the only sane choice I had left.
Some days that history sits heavy, like a weight on my chest. Most days, though, I’m just grateful it ended when it did and I was able to salvage my reputation.
But now I fear that I may be in worse shape. I can’t stop thinking about a woman who looked me in the eye and told me she doesn’t do relationships.
Fuck.
Wyatt doesn’t look completely convinced, but he lets it go. That’s one of the things I love about the guy. He knows when to push, and when to back all the way off and act like he never asked.
“Blair wants you to come over for dinner this weekend,” he says, switching lanes like only a seasoned litigator can. “Fair warning, she is absolutely going to try to set you up with one of her friends again.”
I groan, scrubbing my towel over my face. “Tell her I’m not interested.”
Unless she wants to set me up with Natalie. Then I would be very, very interested.
“I did tell her,” he says, smirking. “She ignored me. Apparently you’ve been single too long and it’s making her nervous.”
“The divorce was finalized in January.”
“You know Blair. She just wants you happy.”
“I know,” I sigh.
“Just come to dinner. Eat something that isn’t takeout. Hold the baby. You don’t have to agree to any dates.”
I blow out a breath and weigh my options. It’s dinner with people I love and a small squishy human; or another lonely night in my kitchen pretending frozen pizza is a food group.
“Fine,” I say. “But if she ambushes me with someone, I’m leaving.”
“Deal.” His grin widens. “I’ll at least try to give you a heads-up before the ambush.”
We head to the locker room together, the two of us fallinginto the familiar rhythm of post-workout chatter. He talks about Blair’s latest signing, some up-and-coming actor she’s excited about. The baby, who apparently thinks sleep is for cowards. The nightmare that is preschool waitlists in Los Angeles. I half-listen, throwing in a comment or a laugh when it feels right, but beneath the surface my brain is already drifting toward the day ahead.
“You good to grab coffee on the way in?” Wyatt asks as we step out into the parking lot, the sun way too bright for this early in the day.
“Raincheck? I don’t have to be in until ten this morning, so I was going to run home for a bit.”
